


chasing the sun

by sunfuckedboy (earthshaker)



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Breathplay, Established Relationship, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-08-20 21:59:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16563902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earthshaker/pseuds/sunfuckedboy
Summary: “What do you want, baby?”It’s just like Minghao,  always intent on giving Seokmin what he wants, and then more, even on Minghao’s birthday. Minghao gives and gives, and Seokmin still wonders where he finds the capacity to keep on giving.“It’s your birthday, you should decide,” Seokmin murmurs.





	chasing the sun

**Author's Note:**

> i watched 8daylive and there was a point where seokmin said "it's your birthday, you should decide" and well. it kinda went downhill from there, it's scorpio season, i really don't have an excuse. this is unedited and i am so sorry if it's bad. it's just birthday porn, with some feelings! please be warned that i reference previous sexual acts, and that the breathplay tag is there for a reason.

Minghao runs a hand through Seokmin’s hair, pushing it away from his face. At some point, they went from their fifth? Sixth? Seokmin has lost count of how many times they’ve watched  _ Once _ , but they were watching  _ Once  _ and now Seokmin’s straddling Minghao, ducking down to flutter kisses on his face. Minghao keeps giggling, and the sound alone is enough to sate Seokmin, makes him feel richer than any amount of wins on a music show does.

 

It’s just an hour or so past Minghao’s birthday — there was a point where some of them, Joshua, Soonyoung, Junhui, Vernon, Mingyu, were crammed into Minghao’s room, drinking wine as his “ _ Dinner and a Movie”  _ playlist played in the background. They’re past that now, Seokmin the only one in the room, two empty bottles of syrah rolling around somewhere under the bed, the movie paused and Minghao’s laptop abandoned on the floor.

 

“Happy birthday,” he murmurs again, fluttering kisses along Minghao’s jaw.

 

“Is this my present?” Minghao jokes, hands still tight on Seokmin’s waist.

 

Seokmin swallows — it isn’t a present, Minghao’s present is still in his backpack. There just wasn’t time to give it to him, between him spending the day with his parents, and then everyone clamoring for his attention once they’d left. 

 

“It’s part of it.” Seokmin amends. 

 

Minghao grins up at him, bangs soft and falling across his face. 

 

“What do you want, baby?”

 

It’s just like Minghao,  always intent on giving Seokmin what he wants, and then more, even on Minghao’s birthday. Minghao gives and gives, and Seokmin still wonders where he finds the capacity to keep  _ on  _ giving.

 

“It’s your birthday, you should decide,” Seokmin murmurs.

 

Minghao’s hands have moved from his waist to the hem of his sweater, under his sweater, rings cool on his skin. At this point, even the sensation of Minghao’s rings on his skin is enough to make him half hard, rolling his hips against Minghao’s. Minghao could ask for anything, and Seokmin would give it to him. Months ago this wasn’t possible, but months ago Minghao was inseparable from Mingyu and Seokmin was the same with Jeonghan. It’s different now though, has been different since last Christmas, almost a year ago, almost a  _ lifetime _ ago. 

 

“My birthday ended,” Minghao says, easily pulling Seokmin’s sweater off and leaning up to kiss him. 

 

For all his gentleness, when Minghao kisses, it’s to conquer. Minghao’s mouth moving against his, fingers digging into Seokmin’s skin, all of it is just another move on Minghao’s part to leave his own sort of mark on Seokmin. To say he was here. Seokmin would let him, if they weren’t idols, if they didn’t have eyes trained on them every minute they left the space of their dorms. 

 

“You still get to decide.”

 

Minghao tilts his head to the side, lower lip caught between his teeth. 

 

“I want to ride you,” Minghao decides. 

 

Seokmin laughs and Minghao’s expression peters out into something softer, something more tender, and it makes Seokmin ache, lights him up more than any sexual offer Minghao has for him. Minghao’s an equal opportunist; fucks Seokmin’s throat raw and then two days later, offer up his own mouth for Seokmin to use. Takes Seokmin face down, ass up then eats his own come out of Seokmin. He still finds ways to surprise Seokmin; every day, every time. 

 

Their clothes come off fast, an abandoned heap on the floor, Minghao on his back, Seokmin between his legs. Minghao gasps when Seokmin wraps his lips around his cock, hands fisting tight in his hair. 

 

“Thought you were gonna finger me,” Minghao complains.

 

Seokmin pulls away, laughing and nipping the inside of Minghao’s thigh. “This is part of it.”

 

He goes back to bobbing his head on Minghao’s cock, hollows his cheeks, circles the tip of Minghao’s cock with his tongue on every upstroke. On his back, Minghao is tense, head thrown back, yellow lights reflecting off the sheen of sweat on his skin. The tendons of his neck are visible, a long, sloping line that leads to his jaw. Minghao is beautiful, and Seokmin’s blessed to be the one who gets to see this. 

 

Seokmin fumbles with the lube, popping the cap open and coating his fingers liberally. Minghao gasps when Seokmin’s fingers brush against his rim, a little resistance when he pushes the first one in. He fingers Minghao open patiently, mouth still wrapped around Minghao’s cock. One, two, three fingers, and Minghao is still quiet, little gasps occasionally leaving his mouth whenever Seokmin’s fingers brush his prostate, rocking into the sensation. Minghao’s always quiet when he’s being fucked, the complete opposite of how he is when he’s fucking Seokmin. 

 

“Seoku,” Minghao mumbles, fingers patting through his hair. “Seoku, that’s enough.” 

 

He pulls away, grinning at Minghao, groaning into his mouth when he sits up to kiss Seokmin, maneuvers then so Seokmin’s sitting against the headboard and Minghao’s straddling his thighs. Seokmin throws his head back when Minghao rolls a condom down his cock, Minghao laughing when it connects with the headboard. 

 

“Quiet,” Minghao giggles. “The others are sleeping.”

 

Seokmin nods weakly, thrusting weakly around the loose grip of Minghao’s fist around his cock. He’d been so into making sure Minghao was comfortable he’d forgotten how hard he was. It’s brought to the forefront of his mind now that Minghao’s hand is around his cock, the feeling of his rings on Seokmin’s skin always inciting a Pavlovian response in him. 

 

They both groan when Minghao shuffles forward and sinks down onto Seokmin’s cock, Minghao leaning forward to press their foreheads together. It’s still for a moment, Seokmin holding himself back from fucking up into Minghao. Minghao can tell he’s holding back, grinning even as he runs his hands down Seokmin’s throat, his sternum, down. 

 

Minghao braces his weight on his knees, rocking against Seokmin, still pressed together. He’s hot and tight around Seokmin and Seokmin wants — wants to fuck up into Minghao, wants to push him onto his back and fuck Minghao the way he deserves but he won’t. He knows better. Even like this, Minghao is in control. They continue in a slow grind, Seokmin gasping when Minghao picks up a rhythm of bouncing on his cock, hands tight on Minghao’s waist. 

 

Seokmin wraps a hand around Minghao’s wrist, bringing his hand from where it’s braced on Seokmin’s shoulder to his throat, Minghao laughing breathlessly.

 

“I thought you said it’s my birthday and I get to decide,” Minghao teases.

 

Months ago, Seokmin would’ve protested. Laughed, and blushed, and stuttered through what he wants. Now though, he knows it gets to Minghao as much as it gets to him. Knows how Minghao’s eyes follow him the next day when his voice is fucked and raw, knows how Minghao looks at him, looks  _ through  _ him. 

 

“You want to,” Seokmin pants out. 

 

Minghao’s eyes go dark, doesn’t deny it. Seokmin’s doesn’t get a warning before Minghao’s fingers are digging into his throat, restricting his airflow. His world goes dark, then light, head spinning. Seokmin whimpers, fucking up into Minghao, Minghao rocking back into the thrust. Seokmin’s world is narrowed down to Minghao tight around his cock, warm against his chest, rings cold on his throat. 

 

Seokmin braces his feet on the mattress, fucking up into Minghao every time he rocks down, Minghao groaning. To anyone who is awake, what they’re doing is clearly unmistakable at this point, Minghao’s soft gasps and Seokmin’s low groans. Seokmin’s thrusts falter every time Minghao’s hands tighten around his throat, Seokmin fumbling as he reaches down to wrap a fist around Minghao’s cock, jerking him off. 

 

Minghao hisses, thrusting more fervently, panting into Seokmin’s mouth. Seokmin’s not sure how long they’ve been like this, feels like forever, doesn’t matter as long as it’s with Minghao. Minghao comes first, Seokmin’s fist stroking over his cock even as he rolls his hips against Seokmin, riding out his orgasm. Seokmin comes soon after, Minghao’s hand tight around his throat, panting into his mouth, fucking up into Minghao’s ass. 

 

It takes some time before Seokmin finally pulls out of Minghao, Minghao sucking his own come off Seokmin’s fingers. Equal opportunist, that’s Xu Minghao. Seokmin just laughs breathlessly, licking into Minghao’s mouth when he’s done, the two of them trading kisses lazily before Seokmin hobbles over to the trash can, disposing of the condom.

 

“We should shower,” Minghao says, even as he stretches out on the bed, wiggling back into his underwear. He’s running a wet wipe over his abdomen, getting the come that spilled out of Seokmin’s fist. 

 

Seokmin sighs, wiping himself off with his discarded sweater and pulling his own boxers back on, fumbling through his backpack.

 

“I don’t want Jeonghan hyung to lord it over me,” he says. Minghao laughs, humming.

 

“As if you’re not going to see him when you leave in the morning.”

 

Seokmin stops, turns around. Minghao’s lying on the bed, smiling at him, sweaty and glowing. What he’s saying, it’s true; Seokmin’s not going to go back to his room tonight. Not going to sleep alone when he could be sleeping with Minghao. Can’t remember the last time he  _ wasn’t  _ sleeping with Minghao. Probably when he was with his parents, but that barely counts. 

 

“Yeah,” he mumbles.

 

He finds Minghao’s birthday present a few moments later, climbing back onto the bed and thrusting it at Minghao.

 

“Happy birthday,” Seokmin mumbles.

 

Minghao blushes and leans forward to press a kiss to Seokmin’s mouth. “You didn’t have to, but thank you.”

 

“Open it,” Seokmin urges. 

 

Minghao unwraps it carefully, the type of person to save gift wrappers, gasping when he sees the cover. It’s a coffee table book, on Gucci, Minghao flicking through the glossy pages to look at pictures of their collections, their designs. Next to him, Seokmin fidgets. It had been hell trying to find something for Minghao, feels like his gift pales in comparison to the chain Soonyoung had bought Minghao. 

 

“I can take it back if you don’t like it,” Seokmin says, anxiously, words running together. “We can go shopping, get you something you’d really like. A new blazer, or something.”

 

Minghao shuts him up by kissing him. 

 

“This is good,” he says. “This is great.” 

 

It’s only much later, the book set aside and Minghao’s arms wrapped around Seokmin does Minghao mumble against the nape of his neck.

 

“The best present you can give me is you.”

 

Seokmin turns around to look at Minghao, Minghao smiling gently even as he brushes his lips against the corner of Seokmin’s mouth, their hands warm where they’re interlinked. Jeonghan and Joshua teasing him in the morning is worth it. Doing anything for Minghao is worth it. 

  
  


 

 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! i am just a cat (an author) looking for pats (kudos and comments)!


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